


There's always tomorrow

by Ari_7, ashes_and_ashes, gameofdrarrymod, SkyRose, tomoewantsdolls



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 10:53:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18737578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ari_7/pseuds/Ari_7, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashes_and_ashes/pseuds/ashes_and_ashes, https://archiveofourown.org/users/gameofdrarrymod/pseuds/gameofdrarrymod, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyRose/pseuds/SkyRose, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomoewantsdolls/pseuds/tomoewantsdolls
Summary: Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter are bitter rivals. It doesn't matter that they keep waking up in each other's arms. It doesn't matter that this new 8th year is forcing them to see eye-to-eye. It doesn't matter that they no longer hate each other, or, at least, it didn't matter.





	There's always tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> The Dragonwick House Round Robin prompt:  
> “This isn’t what I expected when I woke up this morning.” + Eighth Year + Fluff
> 
> Also co-written by [Ash](https://ashes-and-ashes-dust-and-dust.tumblr.com/) and [Nomii](http://ibelieveinahappilyeverafter.tumblr.com) who are not on AO3. 
> 
> Thank you to [Kristinabird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kristinabird) for the beta!

Half consciousness stirred within Harry Potter, the young adult taking a few moments to catalogue where he was and what was going on. For a moment, he felt his body start to tense as he remembered the sounds of thunderstorms against a worn tent and the feeling of constantly _running_. Then he moved one of his arms and felt an almost suffocating warmth fade into a sleek coolness associated with fresh sheets and early mornings.

 

Relaxing back into the cocoon of warmth that was his bed at Hogwarts, Harry gave a quiet hum as he felt arms tighten around him, soft, almost feathery hair skimming the edge of his jaw. Coming back to Hogwarts for ‘Eighth Year’ had him wary, but waking up to shared warmth and the distant sound of an early English morning made it all seem-

 

Wait.

 

Eyes snapping open, Harry stared with blurry vision at the red canopy above him. It had been charmed into Gryffindor colours the day he had stepped into the shared dorm room that was to be made up of all four houses. It was his bed he was in, then, but that didn’t explain why there was someone _sleeping next to him_.

 

Before he could panic and try to figure out if he had just ended up having a torrid affair without even _realizing_ it, Harry felt the warm, almost bony body next to him shift to be more top of him, an arm hooking around his waist and rough, chapped lips pressing into his neck. Harry should probably feel guilty about the shiver that crawled its way down his spine, syrupy warmth starting to pool in his stomach.

 

Shifting in the grip and moving as slowly as he could, Harry glanced down to see the person that was curled up to him. It was definitely a bloke at least, but that blond hair was fair, almost _white_ in the early morning light that slipped through parted curtains and promised a typical cloudy day.

 

Right then,an eighth year bloke with blond hair was in his bed. Eighth year and blond hair… Ah, it had to be Draco Malfoy, then.

 

Harry took a slow breath, trying not to have a complete breakdown over the fact that _Draco Lucius Malfoy_ was _in his bed_ and curled up to him like they were _dating_. He froze when he heard a small snuffle of a sneeze, and saw silver eyes, still glazed with the remnants of sleep flick up to his own.

 

There was a moment where those silver eyes shone with utter _contentment_ , Malfoy looking like he was ready to slip back off into a soft, dreamless sleep—something that was so rare these days among them all. At the sound of one of the other beds creaking with movement, however, the contentment started draining out to be replaced with confusion and then, as Harry had been braced for, sheer and complete _horror_.

 

His already pale features managed to pale even further, Harry swallowed and tried not to think about the fact that they were still tangled together, unable to figure out where he ended and Malfoy began.

 

“So… This isn’t what I expected when I woke up this morning,” Harry joked, aiming for a tone that he hoped would convey that he was unarmed and that he didn’t fancy getting punched in some sort of panic this early in the morning.

 

“Potter?” It was a tone that spoke of horror, embarrassment, and sheer desperation that they were both trapped in a nightmare. Harry was impressed that Malfoy could convey so much with just a single word, but then again, this was the same word that Malfoy had been screaming at him for over seven years, now.

 

“Morning,” Harry smiled weakly, trying to stay positive. He was almost certain it didn’t work. “Fancy seeing you here.” In his bed. Harry stole a quick glance down at them both, relieved beyond words that they were both still _dressed_.

 

There was a moment where Harry honestly thought he was about to be punched before he felt a sharp pressure on his chest pushing him _back_. Before he could get his bearings, Harry was uncomfortably awake at the cold shock of untouched sheets, head lifting to see that his curtains were open even wider and Malfoy was nowhere to be seen. Not even seconds later and there was the sound of their door opening and closing—not quite a slam, but close enough.

 

“Right, then.” Harry, after a moment of deliberation, dragged over his pillow and shoved it over his face, half hoping that suffocation would take him before he had to wake up for morning classes.

That was _definitely_ not what he was expecting when he had woken up that morning. 

 

Draco stretched as he opened his eyes after his 5 A.M. alarm set off. Waiting until the last possible minute to get up and start the day, he rolled over onto the cold side of his bed- or at least, what should have been the cold side. Instead, he found a very warm mass of person by his side. He quickly turned back to his original position, accidentally elbowing them in the process. Draco grabbed his wand from under his pillow and cast a quick silencing spell just-in-case

It had barely been a week since he had woken up in Potter’s bed, and the last thing he needed was a reoccurrence. Desperately, he closed his eyes again before turning around to identify whoever was in his bed, hoping to Merlin that it was anyone but Potter. Hell, he would even rather find Weasley sleeping next to him. 

He must’ve woken them up when he rolled over the first time because Draco felt the mattress dip and spring back up. With a deep breath, he finally took a glance. 

“Potter… what are you doing in my bed?” he asked with a voice full of confusion. 

Potter looked just as puzzled. “I…” he started, the morning grog not yet lifted from him. His brow furrowed. “It’s very green in here.” He shook his head as he spoke. “I have to go.” 

The Slytherin watched as Potter stumbled towards the door, shaking his head once again. Clearly, he was no early bird. 

Once the other teen had left the dorm that was the perfect amount of green, thank you, Draco exhaled a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. There was a slight flutter in his chest that made him stop short. 

“What in Merlin’s saggy scrotum was that?” he exclaimed. Realization settled in and he quickly looked around the dorm for reactions from his roommates before remembering his silencing spell. With that, Draco sighed and began his morning routine. That was most certainly not what he expected when he woke up.

 

 

The last few days had been tiresome, and Harry feared to go to sleep. After finding Malfoy in his bed he realized that night was the first he had truly rested in a long time. It seemed his presence was kind of reassuring. 

Which is probably why he woke up in Malfoy's bed two mornings ago. He didn't mean to, he just was desperate. After five nights of barely sleeping, he crossed the room past midnight and sneaked through the heavy curtains. Malfoy was sound asleep and he envied him profoundly, git. His foggy brain reasoned that maybe if he laid in bed next to him he could relax enough to get some rest. It was just going to be for a while, then he would go back to his own bed… but he got cold, so he got under the blankets, as far as he could in the narrow bed, mind you, and fell blissfully asleep in the comfortable soft mattress.

The next morning he thought he would die of embarrassment and avoided every possible contact with Malfoy the rest of the day. Which was more difficult than he expected. Even at dinner, when he glimpsed Malfoy just from afar, he thought he would auto-combust if the heat in his cheeks was any indication. 

It was Friday, so after dinner almost every eighth year student was hanging out on the common room, chatting or playing games, a few helping each other with homework, others just enjoying the company. Harry spotted Malfoy immediately, he was seated in a comfy armchair near the fire, staring at an open book. Harry sat on the sofa, as far as he could from him, and tried to convince Hermione to do something other than the charms essay due on Tuesday.

He was negotiating playing snap after an inch into the essay when a commotion started.

“Oi!” Someone exclaimed, “that’s not fair!”

 

“You may not remember but your bet was “ _if_ the giant squid appeared, that didn't happen.” Seamus answered. Then Terry Boot tried to nick Seamus little notebook and in the struggle, they knocked over a chair, Hermione’s pile of parchments, and a girl seated precariously on a little pouffe. A moment before colliding into Malfoy, he moved like a cat and avoided being crushed under the weight of both contenders. 

He looked around defiantly, probably waiting to be laughed at, Harry thought, but everybody’s attention was on the other two. Except for Harry, he was impressed. He didn’t think that Malfoy had it in him. He watched as Malfoy shook his robes and then sat on the other end of the sofa. 

Harry stiffened, looking straight forward and wishing for a distraction. He lost his opportunity when Hermione decreed that there would be no exploding snap tonight. He helped her pick up the scattered parchments but she didn’t want any assistance in getting them into some kind of order, so he settled on the couch, patently aware of Malfoy’s presence near him. He tried to watch him out of the corner of his eye, but when he realized he was looking down at his book and not moving, Harry risked a direct look. Malfoy was dozing and he snorted. He felt utterly dumb, having felt so nervous for nothing. He relaxed instantly and before he could think of it, fell asleep.

He slept soundly for a few hours, when he woke up he felt warm and a bit cramped between the armrest and a heavy weight on his side. He nudged it slightly and the weight shifted so he tried for a more comfortable position, snuggled in the blanket that covered him and went back to sleep.

The sun was starting to rise when he woke up again, the couch shifting under him.

“Merlin, Potter, is this going to be a common occurrence?”

Harry sprang upright in a panic. He would never admit it but he had been hugging the pointy git. They were in the common room so Harry hadn’t invaded his bed again, and certainly, it wasn’t only his fault.

“This is my side of the couch.”

Malfoy arched his eyebrows. “Do we have sides now?”

Harry blushed and picked the blanket from the floor, it was Gryffindor red. “See? This is my blanket. You hoarded my blanket.”

Malfoy turned a brighter side of red and stood up, raising his nose up in the air as he fled the room muttering something along the lines of “ _I was cold.”_

 

 

Draco was glad that he didn’t scream.

He barely moved when he was sleeping, frozen like a statue. A leftover habit, from the days in Malfoy Manor, those days while the war still raged on.

He only ever had threenightmares.

The first one was always him, standing before all the Death Eaters, trying so hard not to scream as the Dark Mark was burned into his flesh. He still remembers the hiss, the searing pain pressed into his arm, the way he had to bite his lip and lock his knees and pray to God that he wouldn’t make a noise.

The second dream was always the castle, of finding Hogwarts reduced to a pile of rubble. In the dream, he would always pick through the stones, body after body, Pansy’s and Blaise’s and Theo’s and Vincent’s.

 

The last dream was always of Harry.

Finding Harry, to be more specific, lifeless on the ground, cold and lifeless, those green eyes shut forever.

He didn’t know why that was a nightmare. He didn’t even know why he liked Harry Potter.

So Draco slept and Draco dreamt.

He was woken by Harry’s arms on his, his body pressed up against Draco’s.

It was dark, the curtains fully closed. Thin rays of moonlight shone through the cracks, casting Harry’s face in silver streaks. Harry’s arms were flung over Draco’s chest, legs pressed up against each other. His hands were warm, heated against Draco’s cold skin, and Draco could feel his pulse hammering against his chest. He sat up, swearing, and beside him, Harry stirred. He opened his eyes, yawned, then froze. “Oh crap. Crap, Draco, crap.”

Draco looked down. “Whatever.” 

Harry furrowed his brows. He reached over, grabbing one of Draco’s hands. “Are you okay?”

Draco snarled, yanking his arms away. His cheeks burned and he practically flung the words at the other boy. “Perfectly fine, thanks. God. This wasn’t what I expected when I woke up this morning.”

Harry frowned. “It’s night.”

Draco pointed to the silver grandfather clock in the corner. “It’s 3 am. Otherwise known as morning. Why are you asking?”

He’s not sure, but he thought he saw Harry’s cheeks slightly darken. “I...I was just wondering. You suddenly went all stiff, like something was attacking you or something.” 

“And why,” Draco hissed through gritted teeth, “Did you decide to come galavanting into my bed, sit _right_ on my covers and hold me down when your bed is clearly next to mine and not on top of mine?”

Harry just looked down. He muttered something under his breath, running his hands through his hair and Draco raised an eyebrow. “Hello?”

Harry looked up, emerald eyes locked into grey ones and Draco caught his breath. Harry sighed. “Nightmares. I get them too. And…” He exhaled. “Look. I know this sounds stupid. I’m the Boy Who Lived, I shouldn’t be getting nightmares but…” 

Draco shook his head. “It’s not stupid. If you got out of this war unscathed, then you’re off in the head.”

Harry flashed him a quick smile, fading fast into the darkness of the room. “I don’t know. Everything is so screwed up now. I mean, I came back thinking everything was going to be the same and then…”

Draco laughed. “Oh, I knew everything was going to be different. You can’t pick the losing side of a war and expect that everyone will still like you.”

Harry shrugged. “True. But no one liked you in the first place.”

Draco threw a pillow at him, which Harry easily caught. “Alright then Potter. You say no one likes me. So, tell me. What the hell were you doing, sleeping next to me in bed?”

“I mean,” Harry started. “You actually put this whole bed-sleeping thing into motion. After all, you did kinda sleep in my bed first.”

“I’ll shove you out,” Draco said, and Harry sighed. “I mean it. I’ll kick you out of my bed.”

Harry groaned. He stood up, plopped down on his bed. “Fine. I’m sorry, okay? It’s….two screwed up people seeking solace in each other?”

“Nope.” Draco popped the end of the word. “It’s you wanting to be able to sleep through the night.”

Harry locked eyes with him. “Maybe.”

Draco just shrugged. “Well. In that case. I’m not sure if I mind.” He plumped the pillows up, turning his back on Harry. “Go to sleep, Potter.”

He could feel Harry’s smile, even with his back to him. “Goodnight Draco.”

 

 

When Harry awoke, he almost expected to be on the floor. He wasn’t. He was lying next to Draco in bed. They weren’t touching but Harry could still feel a comfortable warmth from Draco. Well, that wasn’t true. They were touching. Their hands were clasped together in the middle of the bed, hidden beneath the sheets.

Draco wasn’t asleep. He was on his back, staring up at the ceiling above. Harry stretched before rolling closer to Draco. The Slytherin scoffed at Harry and gently pushed him. Harry barely budged. 

“Sleep well?” Harry asked, breaking the silent serenity. He almost hated doing it. Still, he wanted to make sure Draco hadn’t suffered any more nightmares.

Draco turned, his silver eyes looking brighter and well-rested. “Yes, Harry. I did.”

Harry’s mouth twitched into a smile. He nodded slowly. They both stared up at the ceiling. Neither let go of the other’s hand. Harry thought back to the first time he had woken up next to Draco. He cringed a bit, remembering the embarrassment of it all.

He didn’t feel embarrassment now. Perhaps he should. 

No, he didn’t care. He felt comfortable and cosy next to Draco. He suspected the Slytherin felt the same way.

“What time is it?” Draco asked, his voice quiet and mouth barely moving.

“I don’t know,” Harry stated. Their eyes met again. “I don’t really care.”

Draco rolled his eyes. He let go of Harry’s hand, pushed the sheets off of him and stood from the bed. Harry sat up and hurriedly questioned, “Where are you going?”

“To eat breakfast,” Draco answered as he found clothes for the day.

Harry didn’t want to leave the warm bed. He didn’t want to worry about class or homework. He didn’t want Draco to leave the room and take that warmth with him. “Let’s skip breakfast and sleep another hour.”

Draco stood at the foot of the bed, staring down at Harry disapprovingly. His expression softened a bit at the pleading look on Harry’s face. Then, he walked to the side of the bed. He took Harry by the hand and pulled him up. Harry stood face-to-face with Draco, fingers still intertwined. “There’s always tomorrow, Harry,” he whispered.

Harry gave a small sigh but agreed to go to breakfast. All day, he couldn’t help but look forward to the night.


End file.
